


5 Things Noah Has Delivered To Dan's House + 1 Thing He Delivers Himself

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: FaceTime Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: What it says on the tin.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	5 Things Noah Has Delivered To Dan's House + 1 Thing He Delivers Himself

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a quarantine thing, but then I couldn't bring myself to write another quarantine thing. Thanks, as always, to Gray and TINN for helping me come up with the five things, and for validation, and to Gray for the beta too.

It starts, as most things do, with breakfast.

Dan is standing in his big, chilly kitchen, staring at all of his expensive pots and pans, when his phone buzzes on the table behind him. It’s Noah on FaceTime, and Dan grabs the phone up so fast he bobbles it before securing it safely in his palm and swiping to accept the call.

“Hi,” Dan says, breathing through the emotion already clogging his throat. Noah looks sleepy, and soft, smiling through the screen with a toque covering his curls.

“Hey,” Noah says back. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Contemplating breakfast.” Dan leans back against the counter, wrinkles his nose, pushes his glasses up with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to cook.”

“Aw.” Noah makes a sympathetic face, the one he always makes when Dan gets pouty about simple, easy-to-solve problems. The one that somehow conveys that Noah feels bad for Dan but also thinks he’s ridiculous, and loves him anyway, all with one specific curve of his mouth and slant of his eyes. “Well, in a couple of weeks you won’t have to worry about that, because I’ll be there to cook for you.”

Dan perks up at that. He literally cannot wait. And not only because Noah absolutely will be cooking for him. “I can’t wait,” he tells Noah. Dan has expressed that sentiment a dozen times since they finalized the plans for their next visit, but he still doesn’t think Noah has heard it enough.

The warm chuckle that comes through the speaker fills Dan all the way up. “I know,” Noah says. “Me neither. But hey, I can’t talk too long, I just wanted to make sure you were up and decent.”

“Decent?” Dan furrows his eyebrows. There’s a twinkle in Noah’s eye, and Dan can’t put the question together with the mischief in his boyfriend’s face. Then his intercom buzzes.

“Huh, someone’s there,” Noah says. He presses his lips together, pale eyebrows lifting up his forehead. “Hang up, get the door, call me back.” Then the phone beeps as Noah ends the call.

Dan stands in the front doorway, watching a Postmates driver trot up his front steps. He’s carrying a bag from Little Dom’s. The only time Dan gets delivery from Little Dom’s is when it’s pancakes.

Noah must have ordered Dan pancakes.

“Thanks,” Dan says, smiling and taking the bag gently from the delivery person, trying to be gracious despite wanting to be calling Noah back immediately. The driver tips him a lazy salute and then starts his descent down the stairs. Dan waits just until the gate is securely closed again before unlocking his phone and tapping to his Favorites list.

Noah picks up immediately. His attempt to look innocent is so adorably fail-y that Dan laughs instead of saying “hi,” or “thank you,” or “oh my god I love you more than life itself.” “Who was it?”

“Did you seriously order me pancakes?”

“Oh, is it pancakes?”

“Noah.”

“Okay.” Noah’s face changes again, and Dan doesn’t have enough time to marvel at how easily and quickly Noah can slip between emotions before Noah is speaking. “Yes, Daniel, I ordered you pancakes.”

“How did you know—”

“That you’d be sadly contemplating breakfast? Lots of reasons. It’s about 9 a.m., you have meetings today, I’m not going to be there for a while.” Noah shrugs, the camera shaking slightly before settling again. Dan’s chest feels tight. He’s still got the handles of the bag clutched in his hands.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Eat your pancakes. Have a good meeting. Text me if you need me. Otherwise call me after.”

Dan nods and lets Noah end the call. Then he eats his pancakes.

✨

It’s hard to even see the expression on the delivery person’s face when the entire doorway seems like it’s filled by a box. Dan’s eyes travel the length of it, mouth open.

“What?” He asks, as the person is trying to figure out how to maneuver so he can pass the box over without taking out Dan’s door jambs. Eventually they get it figured out, and then Dan is left standing in his foyer with his arms curled awkwardly around the suspiciously-light box and Redmond sniffing around his legs in interest.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Dan tells Red, and then lugs the box off to the kitchen, the only place he can think of with a surface that can handle it.

When he finally figures out how to open the lid, he gasps. It’s a long, flat array of roses, white with black ones in the shape of a pair of glasses. His pair of glasses. The pair of glasses currently on his face. He reaches up to touch the rims and then out to feel the silky soft petals of one of the roses.

“What?” He asks again, and looks down at Redmond like he might have figured it out by now.

The hunt for a card is fruitless, and Dan’s head is swimming in shock and the heady scent of all the flowers in the box. He steps back again and looks down, trying to take the whole thing in.

Then he pulls out his phone.

He snaps a photo and posts it on Instagram, thinking maybe someone there can shed some light on this extravagant gesture. His brain is working overtime, warring between being touched and being concerned. Anonymous gifts to his house could mean stalker, or maybe the sender just forgot to ask for a note to be included. Maybe the florist forgot to include it. 

As soon as the photo goes up in his stories he starts getting notifications, from people ooh-ing and ah-ing over it, from likely suspects promising it wasn’t them. Amy wonders if they’re from Elena, since they’ve been finalizing designs and other things for the eyewear line. He shoots off a text, asking her. They just set a date for the photo shoot for the website, so it could be congratulatory, and she’s one of the only other people that knows.

But it wasn’t her. She says they’re gorgeous, but a little much for a colleague to send. As he’s replying to her, thumb and finger flying over the keyboard, he sees a text notification come in from Noah. Dan taps over to it immediately.

_Hey babe how’s it goin_

Dan reads the innocuous message, looks up at the box of flowers, then rereads the text. In light of the admittedly over-the-top, anonymous delivery, the text comes across as a lot less innocent. He taps through to FaceTime, and Noah picks up immediately.

His face is _definitely_ not innocent, as he blinks at Dan through the screen and says, “Hey!” As if he’s surprised by Dan calling. Dan narrows his eyes at Noah and then flips the view, trying his best to encompass the huge box in the camera’s lens.

“Look what I just got,” Dan says, and he watches Noah look over the flowers approvingly for a second before he catches himself and evens out his expression. Dan flips the camera back to front-facing and sees his own skeptical face reflected back at him.

“Wow, those are nice,” Noah says. His mouth is so tightly controlled the lines in his cheeks are extra-pronounced. Dan wants to kiss them.

“They’re something, alright.”

Noah frowns. “Do you not like them?”

“I love them, but god Noah, they must have cost a fortune!”

Noah gives up his act, and tips his head back and forth, equivocating. “You’re worth it. You have an eyewear line, Daniel!”

“Well.” Dan’s chest is so full of emotion that he can barely get enough breath to protest. “I have designs complete, and prototypes, there’s still production, and seeing whether or not anyone wants to buy them, and—”

“Daniel,” Noah cuts him off. That’s twice he’s full-named Dan, which means he’s super serious. It’s something he only does when he knows Dan really needs to hear what Noah is saying. Dan presses his mouth closed, stares at the screen. Not even the distance can dull the intensity of Noah Reid eye contact. “You should be proud of yourself. I am.”

“Obviously,” Dan can’t help but say, blindly reaching out to touch the flowers again. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with these.” He bites his cheek and adds, “Or you.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. For both the flowers and me.”

Noah’s leer is so exaggerated and awful that Dan almost hangs up on him without saying, “I love you.”

✨

This has been literally the shittiest week of all time. It’s definitely not hyperbole, or Dan overreacting because he’s tired and stressed out and hasn’t had a nutritious meal in days. 

He gets a block of cheese out of the fridge, banging the door closed. Then he slaps the cheese down on a cutting board and hacks off a chunk with one of his unnecessarily large knives. As he chews he glares at the wood grain of the table, and then he gets his phone out of his pocket. 

The red bubble on the corner of the mail app icon mocks him, but he ignores it in favor of texting Noah, who has asked twice now how Dan’s afternoon meeting went. If Dan doesn’t respond Noah will call, and if Dan sees Noah’s face right now he’ll lose his grip on his righteous anger and drop right into snot snobbing.

And he likes his righteous anger. Because fuck this stupid, shitty week. 

The text he gets back almost makes him cry anyway. 

_Oh babe. That bad?_

All Dan had typed was _fine will tell more later_. Sure he didn’t capitalize or use punctuation or any emojis, but can Noah really tell how Dan is feeling just from that?

Polishing off the block of cheese, Dan goes off to change into his comfiest sweatpants, fully prepared for an evening of sulking on the couch with Redmond. He doesn’t write Noah back, because right now, after a stupid shitty meeting with another stupid shitty director who has no idea what to do with Dan’s new pilot, he aches to have Noah physically here with him and texting will just make him feel worse. 

Episode two of _Veep_ ends just as Dan’s intercom buzzes. When he gets up to check the camera he sees Frank, an old friend of Noah’s who delivers pot to Noah whenever he’s in LA. Unfortunately Noah isn’t _in_ LA, so Dan has no idea why Frank is here.

“Hey, Frank,” Dan says after engaging the speaker. “Noah isn’t here.”

“Yeah, man, I know. He called in a special delivery for you, though.” Frank shakes a brown bag into the small camera lens and smiles. “Want me to leave it?”

Dan buzzes him in and opens the door, mildly disgruntled that Noah would send someone over without checking first. Though it seems to be a pattern, and it’s not one that Dan has discouraged at any point. And deep down under the layers of crap he’s still feeling about the week, he’s grateful for Noah’s thoughtfulness. 

“Gummies,” Frank says as he hands over the bag. Dan opens it and peeks at the jar inside. “He said you needed some stress relief stat.”

“How sweet of him. And you, for bringing them by, thank you,” Dan says. Frank gives him a casual flick of a wave and starts to bounce back down the steps towards the sidewalk. Dan goes back into the TV room, trying to decide if he can handle a video call. 

Maybe he’ll eat a gummy first and then see how he feels.

As soon as the episode three credits start to roll, Dan gets out his phone and initiates a FaceTime. His anger has faded almost entirely away, and his pathetic pining for Noah’s presence has sharpened to an urgent need to see his face. 

He watches a slow smile spread across his own face as Noah accepts the call, his laughter coming through before his image does. 

“I was going to ask if you got my delivery, but your face is all the answer I need.”

“Hey, babe,” Dan says, ignoring Noah’s teasing. All the playfulness goes out of Noah’s face, eyes and mouth softening at the rare endearment. 

“Hey,” he replies, voice as soft as the rest of him. His eyes are hard to keep looking at, so warm and brown and direct. Dan feels like he’s been laid open under that gaze, all the places he keeps his thoughts and feelings hidden uncovered. It’s a raw feeling, but he loves it. “The gummies helped?”

The thing is Noah doesn’t even _know_ , Dan has been cagey all week about all the stuff pissing him off at the network, how he got a flat on the way to dinner with friends the other night, how he’s stuck writing. He’s been short and snappish in his texts and their brief mid-week phone call, and Noah doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t need to know to want to fix it. Dan wants to crawl through the phone into Noah’s lap. 

“They helped,” Dan says. “You helped,” he adds, which is the understatement of the century. “I love you,” he finishes with, and that is too. 

“I love you, too. I wish I could be there.”

“Me too.” Dan takes in the stretched collar of Noah’s white shirt, nearly identical to the one Dan is wearing. He wants to put his nose in the exposed notch of Noah’s collarbones. The wanting is so strong that Dan lists closer to the screen, and Noah laughs.

“Do I have a stain on my shirt?” He asks. 

“No, I just.” Dan traces the curve of bone with his eyes, licking his lips. “I just want to be there.”

“I wish you were here, too.”

“No, there,” Dan says, hitching his chin to point with his nose. “Your collarbones.”

It’s nonsense, but Noah gets it. He rolls his shoulders and the front of his shirt droops even lower. “Well, I wish you were _there_ , too.”

The actual physical vibration of his voice through the phone makes Dan’s palm tingle, the buzz traveling up his arm and raising the hair there in its wake. “I love the way you taste there.”

“Jesus, Daniel,” Noah says, his voice mostly breath. He reaches up and touches his own throat, and Dan knows how those fingers feel, the roughness where Noah’s guitar calluses are. Even Noah’s dry, chewed up cuticles are turning Dan on right now. “I somehow always forget how you get when you’re stoned.”

“How do I get?” Dan asks, and he doesn’t mean it to come out so seductive, but the way Noah’s pupils widen make him want to lower his voice even more.

“Horny,” Noah says, trying to keep his tone light. He’s right though, that’s exactly how Dan feels. He’s hard in his sweatpants, hips shifting restlessly on the couch. He wonders if Noah is too, or if Dan needs to work on him a little more. Noah isn’t always up for phone or FaceTime sex, because his preference for the intimacy of physical closeness is extreme, but sometimes Dan can get him into the right mood.

“I am that, you’re right,” Dan says. He turns his body into the couch so he can prop up the arm that holds his phone, keeping the screen far enough away so his whole torso and part of his lap is in frame. He watches Noah’s eyes take him in, from his mouth to the tent in his sweats, and back up. Noah licks his lips and Dan smiles. “What about you?”

“Getting there.”

“Hm,” Dan hums. He rubs his free hand up and down his thigh, enjoying the way the soft material slides over his skin. “Anything I can do to help?

“Take your shirt off,” Noah says. His voice is firm, but not harsh at all. Dan loves the way he sounds when he’s giving Dan directions in bed. Or through the screen of Dan’s phone, or anywhere really. Dan can’t take his shirt off one handed, and especially not without dropping his phone, so he sets it down on the couch cushion and whips the shirt up over his head. He has no idea where it lands and he doesn’t care, focused on the way Noah looks at him when he gets himself re-centered in the frame.

“You too?” Dan asks, because Noah is still staring, eyes skipping from Dan’s shoulders to his chest to his waist and lower, then back up to retrace the same route. Noah nods, and then Dan gets a view of the ceiling of Noah’s living room for a moment before bare-chested Noah returns. Dan loves the sparse sprinkle of hair across Noah’s pecs. The real travesty of sex through a phone screen is that Dan can’t touch Noah’s nipples, which are so sensitive, already peaked just from being exposed. Dan wants Noah to do it for him, to pinch one and roll it between it between his rough fingertips, but he also wants Noah to give him more orders so he stays quiet.

“Sweatpants next,” Noah says, and Dan sets the phone down again to comply. While he’s working on getting them off, he hears Noah say, “Underwear too, Daniel.” He debates for a moment, with his hands tucked into his waistband, changing locales. Taking this up to the bedroom where he knows he can prop his phone up and lay down. But the sun is shining through the patio door, and he has a yummy smelling candle burning, and the room is small and cozy and warm.

He spreads a blanket out on the couch and sits back down, pulling one knee up onto the cushions in what he hopes is an alluring display, before he gets his phone back in his hand.

“God,” Noah says when he gets a good look at the way Dan is posed, eyes zeroed right in on Dan’s hard cock. Dan wonders if the resolution is good enough to see the shiny smear of precome on his belly, the way his balls are already drawn up tight.

“Are you still getting there?” Dan asks, smirking at the flush spreading over Noah’s cheekbones, the way he’s chewing his lower lip. Dan rubs his free hand along his thigh again, the hair there tickling his palm. He smooths over the skin from his knee to the crease of his groin, thumb almost brushing the head of his dick. He lingers there, teasing, with Noah’s gaze hot on him, and then slides up to his own chest.

He spreads his fingers at the base of his throat and waits.

“I’m all the way there, baby,” Noah says, voice and eyes molten. Dan shivers, wiggling his hips on the couch. “Just thinking about how good you look, and how badly I want to be there to touch you.” Dan squirms again, and Noah licks his lips. “You know where I’d kiss you first?”

Dan lifts his hand, touches his mouth, skimming his fingers over his lower lip. Noah shakes his head, and Dan trails his fingers over his cheek, twisting his wrist and pressing against the spot under his ear. Noah nods, and Dan brings his hand back to his mouth again. He licks the pads of two of his fingers, then touches below his ear again. It’s not nearly the same as having Noah’s mouth there, or his tongue, but it still makes him groan. Noah echoes it with one of his own.

“Yep, right there. Get them wet again.” Dan does. “Now your nipple.”

Rubbing the wet of his own spit over his nipple makes him groan again, and he pinches without being told. He flutters his eyes open—he hadn’t even noticed squeezing them shut—and Noah’s missing from the screen. “Noah?”

“I’m here, I’m here, just—” There’s a rustle of fabric and then the view shakes and then Noah’s back on screen, sitting on his couch in a mirror image to Dan’s pose, naked now. He’s barely settled on the cushions before he has his hand on his dick, stroking down until the head pops through the ring of his thumb and forefinger. Dan clenches his fist around his phone, wishing he was touching, wishing he could feel the heat of it in his palm, touch the bead of precome welling at the tip. He imagines licking that drop off with his tongue, and saliva pools in his mouth. “That’s better,” Noah says on a sigh, and strokes his hand back up.

Dan makes a wanting noise in the back of his throat that catches Noah’s attention. He still has his own fingers on his nipple, but it’s enough. 

“You can touch yourself. Get your hand wet first. Good,” Noah says, as Dan licks his hand from wrist to fingertips. “Now match me.”

Dan strokes down and back up in rhythm with Noah, the tempo of his breathing racing to match the panting breaths that sound harsher through the phone than Dan knows they are in real life. Noah squeezes around the base and Dan does too, and they groan in unison. 

“I’m close,” Dan says, and Noah is nodding before Dan is even done speaking. 

“Me too, baby,” Noah says. Dan’s whole body is tingling, hips moving along with his fist. He thinks he might need something else, to maybe put the phone down somewhere so he can touch his nipples again, but then Noah says, “Come.” And Dan does, just like that.

He manages to keep his eyes open, so he can watch Noah follow his own order. Dan barely registers the pleasure rolling through his own body as his cock pulses in his hand, too focused on the way Noah’s ab muscles tighten and tremble, the way he shakily swipes his thumb over the head of his dick at the end, then brings it up to his mouth to suck it clean. Dan gathers some of his own come off his thigh with his fingers and then licks it off; it’s not the same as tasting Noah, but it’s the next best thing.

Noah smiles as he practically melts back into his couch, and Dan does the same. His eyelids feel heavy, and the buzz of his high is still there under the buzz of an excellent orgasm. He can see his smile get loose and silly in his reflected image on the screen, and Noah laughs.

“Feeling good?”

“Mmhm,” Dan hums.

“Good. It’s good to see you happy.” Noah shifts his shoulders, brings the phone closer to his face. “I know it’s been a bad week.”

“Mm,” Dan hums again. “Better now. You always know how to make things better.”

Noah makes a noise and blinks rapidly a few times. “Well,” he says, and clears his throat. “I try.”

“I love you,” Dan says, his words running together as sleepiness starts to overcome him. He hears Noah’s soft laugh and imagines he’s there for Dan to snuggle up to. That he’s laughing into Dan’s hair, chest rising and falling under Dan’s cheek. Dan rubs his face on the back of the couch, and Noah laughs again.

“I love you, too,” he says, all fondness and goodness and warmth. Dan forces his eyes open so he can see all of that on Noah’s face. “Go clean up.”

“I will,” Dan promises, and then blows a kiss. Noah blows one back, and then disconnects. Dan hauls himself up off the couch to go shower.

✨

The first thing that gets neglected when Dan is busy is regular meals. The second thing is his hair, because why bother fully styling it if he’s just going to be dragging his hands through it all day? The third thing is long walks with Redmond.

Usually Red can handle a week or so without a long walk or a strenuous hike, but it’s been at least 10 days—11? 12? Dan doesn’t even know what day it is, honestly—and Red is clearly feeling it. He’s a chill dog, so it only manifests in slightly more energy and the occasional whine.

After the third forlorn sign from his dog, Dan feels on the edge of a breakdown. The choice is either put off writing, when he’s under a deadline and has a team relying on him, or hope that a trot around the edge of the pool will be good enough for his poor, sad dog.

Either way, he’s letting someone down, and he hates it.

Then, of course, Noah calls.

Dan swipes to accept the call and immediately puts him on speaker, nudging his phone to the side and staring at Final Draft. “Hey,” he says, and jabs at the backspace key.

“Hi,” Noah says, and just that short syllable wraps around Dan like a hug. He feels dangerously close to crying, and there’s no way he can hide it from Noah. He hits backspace again with enough ferocity to almost crack the key, and then sighs. “Are you working? I can call back.”

“No, no,” Dan says without thinking. There are times he wants to hide how frazzled he is from his boyfriend, and there are times when he just wants to unload and have Noah tell him everything is going to be okay. This is apparently one of those times. “I’m not getting anything done.”

“You sound frustrated.”

“I am!” Dan explodes, pushing up out of his chair and startling Redmond, who had been curled up under the desk. He woofs softly up at Dan, and Dan grimaces down at him. “I’m stuck on this script, and I’m starving but don’t have time to even order dinner, and I’m a terrible dog dad—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Noah says, cutting Dan off. “You are _not_ a terrible dog dad, Dan.”

“I haven’t walked Red in weeks!” Dan yells, and Red reacts more to Dan rising his voice than to the word “walk,” laying down with his head on his front paws. Dan slides just a little closer to crying. “I’m sorry,” he says, to both Red and Noah, and then has to sniff in an alarming fashion.

“Okay,” Noah says, and it’s so soothing, that word shouldn’t be so soothing, but in Noah’s sweet, careful tone it makes Dan’s shoulders drop away from his ears. “First of all, Red is fine. You have a huge yard, it’s not like he’s completely deprived of the outdoors.”

“I know,” Dan says. He sits on the floor and reaches out to smooth the fur between Red’s ears. Red blinks at him. “I just feel bad.”

“How about this? Take a break from your script, get some food, take Red out into the yard and throw a ball for him for a little bit.”

“He doesn’t play fetch with me the way he does with you,” Dan says, pouting even though Noah can’t see him and Redmond doesn’t seem to care.

“That’s because I have a better arm,” Noah teases, and Dan lets the familiar warmth of it ease the tension in his neck. “But if he’s really so under-exercised, he’ll play.”

“I have to write.”

“Are you actually writing, or are you staring at Final Draft and angrily deleting things?”

Dan chews his lip and lets the silence stretch.

“That’s what I thought. Take a break. You’ll be more likely to make progress if you’re not feeling bad about the other stuff.”

“I hate how logical you are,” Dan grumbles, and Noah’s laugh fills Dan’s office. Redmond’s ears perk up, and Dan rubs one of them before pushing to his feet. “Okay, you win.”

“I always do,” Noah says. Dan rolls his eyes and then scoops his phone up off the desk to carry it into the kitchen, knocking his laptop closed as he goes. “Are you going to make food?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan says. He knows Noah can hear past the words to the gratitude in Dan’s voice.

He keeps Noah on the phone while he heats up something Noah had left in the freezer during his last visit, a container of soup that Dan remembers being wonderfully spicy. Noah talks about the dress rehearsal for his latest show, and having lunch with his parents, and how they want Dan to come up to the cottage next time he’s in Canada.

Noah talks him all the way through dinner and a surprisingly spirited game of fetch with Redmond, and then he bids Dan goodbye and good luck on his script. Dan returns to his office and finishes the scene he’d been stuck on, then starts the next one. He feels good about his progress, which makes it easier to shut things down at a reasonable hour and get to bed.

The next morning he makes breakfast, eats it out on the lanai and throws the ball for Red again. Redmond is less enthused this morning, but he still runs back and forth a few times, probably just to appease Dan. Then Dan goes into his office and opens his script. He’s ready to bang out the rest of this episode, and then maybe things will slow down enough for him to feel less stressed out.

Right as he gets his draft open, his phone rings. It’s Sarah, and he would ignore it for now and call her back later, but something makes him answer.

“Hi!” He says, ready to tell her he’s busy and will have to call her back later.

“Hi! Hey, we’re about to take the dogs on a hike, can I come get Redmond and take him with us?”

Her voice is bright, and casual, and Dan sees right through it.

“Did Noah call you?”

“Um, what? I just thought—”

“He did.”

“Okay,” she says, and then laughs sheepishly, “he did. But look, we’d love to have Redmond with us. And then you can get some work done and stop feeling so guilty! Just, let us help take care of you.”

Dan swallows thickly, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. Letting himself be taken care of is a lesson he’s constantly learning. Noah won’t let him forget he deserves it.

“You’re the best sister, truly,” Dan says. “Come on over.”

When Dan opens the door later, Sarah grabs him up in a tight hug. “You’re a lucky guy,” she says, taking the leash out of his hand and crouching down to clip it onto Redmond’s harness, letting him lick her chin in greeting.

Dan smiles down at them. “I really, really am.”

He waves Sarah and Redmond off, then goes back to his office. Before he loses himself in his script he shoots off a text to his lovely, thoughtful boyfriend.

_Sarah just took Redmond on a hike.  
You’re the fucking best and I love you._

✨

If Dan could plan his ideal birthday, it would start in bed with Noah. Location doesn’t really matter, but Dan would almost prefer Noah’s bed in Toronto, which is old and too firm for Dan’s liking, but is still somehow the most comfortable bed Dan has ever slept in. It always smells like Noah’s woodsy soap, and it’s always warm, and he has an amazing quilt that Dan loves tucking up under his chin. Dan would wake Noah up with a blowjob, because he knows that Noah will spend the entire day making Dan feel like the best thing that ever happened in the history of the planet is him being born, and he wants to give Noah this first. Plus, the noise that Noah makes when he comes fully awake and realizes what is happening is Dan’s favorite Noah noise.

Then Noah would make Dan a lavish breakfast. Waffles maybe, or his take on fancy pancakes. Maybe they’d do something with their families, or maybe they’d stay home and cuddle. Maybe they’d dance in Noah’s living room, to one of his scratchy old records. Maybe they’d take Redmond for a walk. Noah would tease Dan about his present all day, and Dan would pretend to be annoyed but secretly love the anticipation.

They’d have dinner with friends, and just enough to drink that Noah would get flushed and glassy-eyed, but not enough that they’re too drunk for after-dinner activities. Dan doesn’t daydream what the presents would be like, because all he really wants is to spend the day, and the night, with the people he loves.

This year’s birthday isn’t going to be ideal. The writer’s room for his show has already opened, so he has to work. They’re breaking the first two episodes’ stories, and as the head writer he needs to be present. Which means he’s in LA, not snuggled up in Noah’s bed in Toronto.

Noah, however, _is_ in Toronto, because he’s two weeks into a four week run on a play, and even though he’d offered to take off and let the understudy take a couple of nights, Dan didn’t want him to disappoint anyone who bought tickets just to see Noah Reid. And Dan knows how many people buy tickets just to see Noah Reid, he’s seen the stage door photos. 

So instead Dan wakes up alone, in his bed in LA, which is the exact right combo of firm and soft, with the high-thread-count sheets that always feel cool to the touch, and the sun filling the room and burning through his eyelids. Noah calls first thing, knowing exactly what time Dan sets his alarm for, and sings a hilariously operatic version of “Happy Birthday” down the line that has Dan’s cheeks aching from laughter. He doesn’t apologize for not being there, but Dan knows he wants to.

“I’d be going to work either way,” Dan says. He shifts his legs under his covers, wishes he had a homey quilt to pull up to his chin.

“I know, but I could at least send you off the right way.”

How Noah manages to convey both “with a good breakfast” and “with a good orgasm” with his voice, Dan will never know.

“They’re going to have donuts for me in the room,” Dan says, because Reema promised. “And we’re ordering salads from the good place for lunch.”

“Well, that’s something then.”

“Don’t you have a matinee to prepare for?”

“And you have a day to get ready for, too. I’ll call you after curtain?”

“Please do,” Dan says. He doesn’t want to hang up, but they have to.

“Happy birthday, Daniel,” Noah says. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Dan disconnects, allows himself one deep sigh, and then flings the covers off and swings his legs off the bed.

There are lots of donuts in the room, gourmet ones that Dan hems and haws over before choosing two to take to his place at the table. He gets icing all over his keyboard and he doesn’t even care. They have a great day of writing, and Dan steps out of the room for a bit in the afternoon to take Noah’s post-show call.

When he gets home there’s a package waiting for him, and if he couldn’t smell the contents through the box he’d know from the customs form exactly what it is. The total on the form is staggering, and the box is heavy enough to prove it accurate. Dan hefts it into the kitchen and then slices it open before FaceTiming Noah.

“Did you buy out the store?” Dan asks as soon as the call connects, lifting bottles and jars out of their protective wrapping, holding them up to his nose and sniffing each one. There’s his favorite tobacco scent, and something that smells like a citronella candle, and a room spray that hits him with a sense memory of Tuscany so strong he feels like he’s standing on the balcony of the Belvedere, staring out at the skinny cypress trees. 

“There’s like five things!” Noah says as Dan lifts out the sixth item. He arches an eyebrow at his phone, propped against one of the bottles, and Noah shrugs. “Or six!”

“You’re too much,” Dan says, unscrewing the lid of the last jar and smelling it. “Ooh, that’s lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” Noah says, and Dan smiles.

“Did you have this all shipped to you first instead of having it come straight here?” The writing on the customs form was definitely Noah’s, and the seals are broken on everything.

“I wanted to smell it all to make sure you’d like it.”

“God, I love you,” Dan says, because it’s so ridiculously beyond thoughtful, that Noah would pay double the shipping just to smell things. And Dan does love the smell of each and every thing that Noah chose. He lifts the bottle of bubble bath and flips the top, letting the deep citrus scent waft under his nose. “I’m going to have the best birthday bath.”

“The best?” Noah asks, arching his brows.

“Well. Of course it would be better if you were here to do all the work of actually washing up.”

“Oh, is that all you’d want me to do?”

Dan ducks his head, hiding his grin. “Maybe not _all_."

“Yeah,” Noah says, unbearably smug, and Dan tries to rein in his face before he looks back up. It doesn’t work. “I wish I was there.”

“I’ll save some bubbles for when you are.”

“Kind of you.” They look at each other for a long moment, and Dan almost can’t handle the love and the longing shining out of Noah’s eyes. He ducks his head again, fussing with the bottles and jars on the table, lining them up in order of height. “Alright, go take your birthday bubble bath. You have plans tonight!”

“I do.” Dan pauses and then says, “I wish you were here, too.”

Noah sighs, but doesn’t say anything about how he could be. He just grins, a crooked curve that creases his cheeks. “Soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The bubble bath is gloriously luxurious, even if it is a little lonely. Dan enjoys his dinner with his friends, and his drinks with his friends, and smiles at the good night text he gets from Noah before he passes out half-clothed on top of his quilt-less bed. All in all, it’s not a bad birthday, even if it isn’t ideal.

✨

Most weeks at the network are great. They’ve put together an incredible room of writers that all work together to best service the story without egos getting in the way. The cast that gets put together gels from the first table read, dropping into their characters like they’ve been living these lives already. It’s not effortless by any means, it’s hard work, and it stresses Dan out just as often as it gives him joy. But it’s work that Dan is really enjoying, that he’s finding really satisfying.

Then there are the weeks that make him want to tear his hair out. The weeks that Noah has to send him pancakes or weed gummies just to calm him down. It figures that one of those weeks would coincide with Noah’s last week on his show, meaning they’ve been apart for almost a month and Dan is at the end of his rope.

Every conversation he’s had with Noah in the last 48 hours has been Dan complaining: about work, about the humidity that makes even sitting outside unbearable, about his empty fridge and lack of time to go shopping, about the stain that mysteriously appeared on his favorite white tee. Anything and everything is getting on his last nerve, and unfortunately Noah has to hear all the details.

“I’ll be there in a couple of days,” he says, as if his presence is all Dan needs for everything to go well. It’s not fair, Dan knows, because Noah being there often does take the edge off enough for Dan to handle things. But Dan hates feeling like he can’t handle his life without Noah in it. He doesn’t want Noah to feel guilty about not being there.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, and while it still feels like a lie he knows it isn’t. He will be fine. It’s cyclical, things will calm down eventually.

“I know, but I’ll still feel better when I’m there.”

“Well,” Dan says, complicated feelings twisting up in his chest. “Soon,” is the only way he can think to finish.

The last show is the Sunday matinee that weekend, and Noah has a flight to LA first thing Monday morning. He’ll arrive before Dan gets home from work, and just thinking about that gets Dan through most of the weekend. Even his Sunday, which seems to drag with dread for the workday and excitement for seeing Noah.

He lets Redmond out for the last time, standing in the doorway out onto the lanai with his shadow stretching out in front of him. Redmond is just a snuffling noise out in the darkness at the edge of the yard, and Dan is about to call out for him when he hears a different noise.

The front door opening.

Dan’s heart starts to race. Does he run towards the kitchen knives to defend himself, or out into the yard to hide? Can he make it to the table where his phone is, so he can call 911 before the intruder finds him? He’s frozen on the threshold, head turned so he can watch the doorways to the foyer out of the corner of his eye, when Redmond scoots past him, nails clicking faster and faster on the floor.

“Redmond, no,” Dan hisses and makes his feet move to follow. His poor, defenseless dog—

“Hey, guy,” Dan hears, and his heart races for another reason. That’s Noah’s voice, the sweet, high one he uses when he’s talking to Redmond and thinks Dan can’t hear. It’s not an intruder, it’s Noah. 

“Noah,” Dan says, and then he follows Redmond’s path to the front door. “Noah,” he says again as he rounds the corner from the dining room. Noah is kneeling down with Red’s front paws on his thighs, hugging Red around the neck while Red tries to lick every inch of Noah’s face. Dan wholeheartedly understands the impulse.

“Hey,” Noah says, and that’s the sweet, warm voice he uses to greet Dan. He starts to move Redmond away so he can stand up, but Dan is faster, going to his knees right next to Noah and pressing his face to Noah’s neck.

“You’re here,” Dan says, stating the obvious because he still can’t quite believe it.

“Caught an earlier flight,” Noah says, getting an arm around Dan so he can cup the back of Dan’s neck with one big, gentle palm. “Hey.”

“Nope,” Dan says, trying very hard not to weep all over Noah’s shoulder. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” Noah says. He squeezes the back of Dan’s neck. Dan hears Redmond settle, and then Noah gets his other arm around Dan too. It’s an awkward position, and the floor is killing Dan’s knees, but somehow he feels calmer now.

“Okay,” Dan says, and pulls back. Noah shifts his hands to Dan’s face, cradling Dan’s jaw. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Noah says, and leans in for a kiss. He tries to keep it light and brief, but Dan presses in, and Noah lets him for a minute before pulling back. “Can we stand up now?”

Dan laughs, and they use the floor and each other to get to their feet, then Noah wraps Dan in a full-body hug.

“God,” Dan says, letting himself be enveloped in Noah’s arms, in his smell and his warmth. “This is exactly what I needed.”

"Me, too,” Noah says, and kisses Dan on the side of his neck, under his ear. “Come on, let’s finish locking up and get ready for bed.”

Noah leaves his suitcase by the door and takes Dan’s hand. Dan squeezes it tight.

“I love you,” Dan says.

Noah squeezes his hand back. “I love you, too.”


End file.
